Slots man just one of us, right?

Granted, it’s silly to feel sorry for a billionaire, but my heart went out to Neil Bluhm, the Chicago mogul seeking to build a slots parlor in Worcester.

Watching him suck up to the city last week was a painful display, starting when he announced that he came from “humble beginnings” and was “raised by a single mother,” and he was so eager to reveal his poverty-stricken background that you’d think he was running for national office.

But Bluhm was only trying to stress that he’s just like you and me, in the sense that we’re all carbon-based life forms who walk upright. Other than that, we don’t have much in common with the high-rolling developer. For example, Bluhm made a $75 million personal investment in 2011 to open his last casino in Des Plaines, Ill., whereas I made a $100 investment last winter to sit at a blackjack table at Mohegan Sun, which is why I couldn’t afford any supper.

So Bluhm is no slouch, and he actually seems like a nice enough guy and a straight shooter, and we shouldn’t judge him simply because he’s made much of his fortune by luring poor suckers to the gambling table when they should be spending their hard-earned paychecks on more worthy pursuits, such as betting on professional sports. It should come as no surprise, by the way, that Bluhm told the Chicago Tribune in 2011 that he, himself, doesn’t gamble.

“Do I look stupid to you?” he asked the reporter, a quote he technically did not utter aloud, but was probably thinking.

On Wednesday, Bluhm told a City Council subcommittee that he was “excited” to be in Worcester, and that he believes the old Wyman-Gordon site would be the “perfect place to put a casino” because it would “further the growth” of the city. The chairman of Rush Street Gaming was careful to use the word “casino” when he spoke, even though the proposal is for a slots parlor, which is not nearly as glamorous and tends to attract a less upscale clientele.

But he and his CEO, Greg Carlin, insisted that the facility would not be a “windowless box” that would keep people inside. Lest there be any doubt, they produced an artist’s rendering of the facility that clearly showed people walking around outside.

Still, Rush Gaming faces long odds to gain public approval, if the response to date is any indication. A cross-section of the community has banded together to oppose the parlor and includes residents who wouldn’t band together under a canopy during a hailstorm. They include ultra-liberal activist Kevin Ksen, conservative Roberta Schaefer and an angry guy named Ed Moynihan, who shows up at hearings to yell at the developers.

Even City Manager Michael O’Brien, who is tasked with crafting a host agreement with the developer and shaking them down for all we can get, isn’t brimming with enthusiasm.

“I’m a skeptic and I remain to be convinced,” he told me. “I care deeply about this community and always have. I’m still trying to reconcile all the work we’ve done and the amazing potential we have, with how a slots parlor fits into this picture.”

Another bad sign for the developer is the involvement of local hysteric Steve Quist, aka “Q,” who has proclaimed himself head of the pro-slots movement despite the fact that he possesses the diplomacy and leadership skills of Kim Jong-un’s lesser siblings.

Some say that the anti-slot faction is simply a vocal minority, and that voters will show their support for a bigger tax base at the ballot box. Plus, the unions are eager for construction jobs. So it’s too early to call this either way, and Worcester may as well demand all we can get in the host agreement, including free flights for city residents on Bluhm’s private jet.

Also, allow me to suggest that all future meetings include complimentary bar service.